


Consider This

by deftbones



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, and they were roommatesss, anyway no plot yet head empty, just leisurely writing, my characterization is bad kill me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24435385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deftbones/pseuds/deftbones
Summary: "Oh my god, I hate you." John shakes his head down at his lap, relaxing. His shy smile betrays his fake annoyance.Dave grins, wide and cheeky. "You love me."
Relationships: John Egbert/Dave Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Consider This

**Author's Note:**

> mostly self-indulgent bullshit because i havent written in a long time and im testing my skills so... im not sure what this is about yet because im dumb and i hate planning but its gon be gay if its any consolation

Dave Strider is a fighter. He doesn't back down without a fair try, no matter how petty or significant the particular fight is, and he's certainly not fucking backing down now.

Wait... what was he arguing about again? Dave spaces out and stares at the porch wall in front of him, past the shoulders of his roommate, John, and tries to gather his thoughts. The wall is coated in a sickeningly yellow paint that he swore he was going to paint over once he moved into John's home, but immediately abandoned the thought of. The ceiling light shines a dim light over John's face, casting colour onto his red cheeks. John's face got red when he was drunk, Dave noticed. It was pretty cute.

Dave shoved the thought of his mind. No, not now. You're two bros drinking on your patio at 10pm, listening to your neighbour's dog cause a ruckus at something unseen, its barks echoing several houses down. This is bro time. John is still rambling, and he zeros back in.

"Listen, dude..." John pauses, nearing closer to the end of a particularly harrowing rant, narrowing his eyes at Dave, whose eyes still wander; back at John, back to the wall, to the screened window, to the light, to the empty chair, to the table, to his drin-- "Venkman was the fucking MAN."

John's emphasis makes Dave focus back at him. Not that John noticed Dave's stray gaze; the porch light was far too bright and made Dave's eyes burn, so the iconic shades were necessary out here, even where darkness surrounds them for miles. They happened to live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, and Dave wonders why he ever bothered when the closest corner store is 20 minutes away. What a waste of t-- wait, John had said something.

Dave opens his mouth. It's dry because of the alcohol or whatever, and his throat nearly catches on his acid reflux. "You're still trying to tell me, after all this time, that Venkman is the hottest shit in the Ghostbusters franchise when Ray is standing right fucking there..." John rolls his eyes so hard his entire body sways, the rickety patio chair creaking underneath his weight shift, and Dave has to suppress a laugh, "...who is easily the most likable fucking character. Venkman is a sham and you know it. He's just the poster child who fucked Sigourney Weaver."

As soon as the last word leaves Dave's mouth, John releases a guttural groan and nearly slams his forehead against the circular table that separates John from Dave, at least within strangulation distance. Dave holds down a shit-eating grin, watching John nearly have a breakdown roughly four feet away. John was funny when he drank, he got riled up about small things, and Dave took full advantage. He really couldn't give a fuck about the Ghostbusters universe, but he knew enough from the times John ensnared him in a shitty movie night to counter-argue and that was all that mattered.

John is silent, and he chooses to take a drink of his alcoholic beverage that Dave had concocted for him (grapefruit-flavoured vodka and Mountain Dew, not to give himself too much fucking credit), and looks up at Dave through exasperated, hooded eyes. Dave feels his heart beat a little too fast and masks it with a small smirk in return.

"You suck," John concludes, leaning back.

"You just don't want to admit I'm right."

"Right about what?!" John nearly shrieks, sitting forward again, back to full steam ahead. Dave can't help but fall back and cackle, damn-near wheezing, as John looks at him incredulously, toothy smile threatening to betray his show.

Dave composes himself, still smiling wide, drawing his knees him to his chest as he reaches for his drink, huffing lightly. "I don't even fucking know, man. This is so dumb. Why are we arguing about this again?" His last words are mumbled as he lifts his drink to his face and looks at John through the warped glass.

John's eyebrows crease. "I don't remember how we got here. Whatever. You're just messing with me, anyway."

"Ahh..." Dave says as he sets his drink back down, "the young padawan is finally learning."

"Fuck you. You don't even like Star Wars." John looks genuinely irritated as he is reminded once again of Dave's nonchalance about iconic pop culture. "You don't get to say 'padawan.'"

"Who caaaaaares," Dave drawls out, head flinging back, "I know the word at least."

"Oh yeah? What's a padawan?" John inquires, leaning forward, acting serious as all hell, elbows rested on the arms of the chair as his hands cross in his lap. He stares at Dave intently, and Dave looks away. What if John gives that look whenever he-- SHIT. Wandering mind again.

"Uhhhh..." Dave looks at John straight in the eyes and deadpans, "someone who has a lot to learn."

"Oh my god, I hate you." John shakes his head down at his lap, relaxing. His shy smile betrays his fake annoyance.

Dave grins, wide and cheeky. "You love me."

John just exhales loudly, eyes cast down, and Dave swallows. Fuck. Too much, Dave, too close to ho--

"You wish, loser." John's words are weaved with a breathy chuckle, and Dave's tension in his shoulder blades leaves him. Back to normal.

Back to fucking normal.


End file.
